


Immortal Twin Flames

by MoonlightRaven



Category: One Piece
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2019-05-16 01:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14801540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonlightRaven/pseuds/MoonlightRaven
Summary: Marco had all but given up on every seeing anyone from his beloved kingdom. Faces have passed but none have ever remembered the kingdom that use to rule all of the Grandline and most of the Blues. But the newest member of the Moby Dick is asking for long lost dishes and saying long forgotten sayings.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Story is also posted on fanfiction but under Co- Author Alli Claraissa Near.

Marco froze. His blue eyes wide and his mouth falling open at the sight in front of him. His heart felt like it was being ripped out of his chest and squeezed. It was beating so hard and so fast he could feel the blood rushing through his body. The air leaves his lungs making him gasp and gag as his throat constricted and tighten until he coughed. 

The forest was up in flames sending the smell of ash and earthy burning wood high in the air and out to sea. The warmth radiated from the island. It had gotten so hot in some places the sand had turned to glass. Tree were still burning at their tops like candle tops. Small craters showed roots and went so deep water was pooling in a couple of them. A wall of fire, orange and red, swept across the landscape separating a small crew from them and their captain. Jinbei was on the ground, his clothes torn, and a small pool of blood painted the ground red. Staggering to his feet was a young boy, his normally tanned face pale making his freckled stand out and dark hair curling around him in a halo. He was bleeding and bruises started to form and change shade in seconds. A boy Marco would recognize anywhere. 

Marco took a step back, shielding himself behind his brothers as his mind rushes back. His mind whirled through faces and time periods going back to before the Whitebeard pirates, far beyond even Whitebeards 70 years, and even farther to even before the World Government itself. 

 

He wasn’t on the Moby Dick anymore nor was he looking out onto a battle field that he had walked into. Before him was an island lush and green with vegetation and dotted with bright luminescent flowers. A lone large mountain that stood tall and proud in the distance with a large waterfall that gushed into lakes that turned to rivers that snaked to the sea. Between the trees and by the largest lake was a city made of jeweled rocks and large rooted trees was a city that housed thousands. A tree that was as big as one of the mountains stood surrounded by the largest building that was dusted in gold. The tree’s canopy was filled with thousands to millions of different colored and shaped fruits. Each fruit more unique then the last and each cherished by the royal family.

The D family had been tasked with protecting the fruit since there creation some centuries ago and the royal family took their job very seriously. The king would choose out of his children, each generation, who would be heir to the throne and who would be heir to the tree. Each job coming with different responsibilities and rules that needed to be followed.

“Wait for me!”

Giggling a blond-haired child ran through the hall without a care. Behind him a toddler followed behind his short legs tripping on his long leaved skirt. 

“Mawus!” The toddler cried. 

A tall dark figure with equally blond hair stepped forward from a hallway and scoped up the blond boy.  
“Marcus, what are you doing?” The man asked, hoisting the blond up just as the toddler slammed into his legs.

“Prince Asce!” The blond man yelped in surprise.

“Hewwo, Mr. Mawus daddy.” 

“We’re playing.” He told the older man. 

“Nay, Nay, Marcus, what are you doing?” A young voice called out.

Marcus’ attention drifted from its dazed form as he looked away from the window that over looked most of the island’s city.  
Before him was a dark-haired boy with a crown of golden feathers, gold paint marked up his upper torso, and woven into his skirt were the brightest of reds and golds all showing his status of eldest prince. His gray eyes alit and his freckled sparkling as he looked up to the older blond.

“Your father has given me the job of Captain of the Guard.” He preened, turning to look once more out at the city before he began his trek towards the islands most prized possession to take guard at the tree’s front entrance.

“Oh? Congratulations! You’ve been aiming for that position since we were children.” He said admiringly.

“My father says, I’m the youngest to be assigned this position.” He bragged, puffing his chest out and side eyeing the younger teen.

“So, I suppose I will be seeing more of you, Mister Captain,” The young boy prince bowed with a smile playing on his face before pivoting around to walk back towards the palace, “Don’t lose focus now.” He sang. 

“Where is your focus today, Marcus?” startled the blond turned around. 

Coming into the room was the oldest prince, his stance relaxed, and a smile on his lips as he made his way forward. He was older, his muscles more defined, and his face had begun to lose the rest of his baby fat.  
“My prince,” he bowed quickly his eyes quickly taking in the prince’s sword at his side and lack of head dress.  
“Don’t do that. My name is Asce, you know, you’ve been one of the islands knights since I was a boy. You’ve guarded me and my beloved brothers. Now tell me, what is wrong?” 

“The boy, the eldest prince brought back to the island.”

“Ah, Donquixote-san? What about him? Father is making him a guest of the kingdom.”

“I’m…uneasy at his presences. We’ve had outsider’s before, Sableu, the boy your father adopted, they have been fine.” He hastily added to the prince, knowing he loved his adopted brother so, “But Donquixote… he was looking at the gifts and treasures, his expression turned into something else. Something I have not seen.”

“That is troubling,” Asce mumbled, his gray eyes turning dark, “I will inform my father of your observation.”

“That is all I can ask.”

Smiling softly Asce stepped closure to the guard, “Your opinion is important and is always valued, never forget that.”

Suddenly he smiled mischievously. Lightly he stepped forward, bringing his arms up to wrap around the tanned shoulders of the guard, his fingers curling lightly into his blond hair. He lined forward to meet him in a chastised kiss.

“Don’t be like that, soon you will be Consort to the Heir of the D Kingdom…”

 

“Arco-Marco, hey Marco? You okay?” Thatch, the fourth division commander was holding onto his elbow to steady him, his voice thick with worry, as he moved to look him in the eye.

“You’ve been out of it since we got here, I know the kids pretty impressive- he fought Jinbei for close to a week with no breaks! But it’s nothing to freak out about.” 

Scowling he shoved Thatch away, glancing around to take in the dispersing crowd, catching sight of four other commanders’ carrying Jinbei and the boy towards the med bay. Pops looked at him in worry, his gaze speaking in his silence. Nodding his head, he assured Thatch of his wellbeing before making his way towards Pops, climbing up to stand on his shoulder. 

Suddenly feeling exhausted, the type of exhausted he hadn’t felt since Whitebeard had found and taken him in. Memories. Memories from a thousand and one lifetimes, flew to the front of his mind. Faces he had long tried to forget and names that still sat heavy on his tongue. Closing his eyes, he sat down, leaning heavily on his father he thought back to a shining bright palace and a kingdom built on family.


	2. Chapter 2

Portgas D. Ace opened his eyes to a wooden ceiling. He breathed deeply counting down from twenty to calm his mind, taking a moment to feel his fire running through his body. The scent of medicine, deft wood and ocean filled the air. The atmosphere was peaceful. Ace pressed his hands against his eyes, dragging them down his face as he sat up. His fingers drifted to his throat; grimacing, he recalled his fight with the fish man Jimbei, and then with Whitebeard. He knew he was in enemy territory and he hated it, but at least his crew got away. Ace looked over his body, cranking his neck to look over his bare back. He was happy to see that he healed enough to move there was still some marks here and there but at least he wasn't bedridden.

Judging by how disoriented he felt he knew he's been asleep for a while. Hands clenched and unclenched, he was trapped here on with the Whitebeard pirate though. Bitterness reared its ugly head, Ace snarled glaring at the iv in his arm. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the iv out along with removing the Cardiac monitoring. Ace forced his aching body to move. He didn't need to rest; he needed answers like what happened? What became of his crew, where they safe where they even alive? And most importantly what did they want from him, why was he here? How long has he been asleep!

The door to his room opened quietly. Ace instantly stood in attack stance, hands aflame and ready to protect himself. Standing in the doorway was a tall man with a brown pompadour hairstyle, which went to a point at the back of his head, and a black goatee around his chin. He had a stitched scar running down his face, around his left eye. He was dressed in a posh uniform, with calf-long pants and a black belt around his waist, and brown shoes.

"Oi, firefly! Good to see your finally among the living again. I'm Thatch, nice to make your acquaintance and welcome abroad the Moby Dick!" 

"I don’t give a damn what your name is, you can’t keep me here." He said with his teeth barred and a low growl from his throat. 

Thatch knew a hostile growl when he heard one. Pop’s sure knew how to pick em'. This wasn't gonna be easy. He could already tell the brat had a chip on his shoulder. But who was he to go against his father's word?

"Yes, well I'm here to check on you and since your awake you must be hungry. What can I bring you?"   
Thatch decided to just play it safe and stick to easy conversation. He doesn’t need the firefly burning up the ship. 

"Nothing!" Ace grunted.

"Nonsense you've out of commission for fourteen days you must be starved. I'm the head chef of the crew it's my job and pleasure to feed any and everyone aboard. Come on tell what you want I can cook anything."  
Pissed that this idiot couldn't take no for an answer and horrified that he had been at the mercy of his enemies for so long, Ace automatically brought up a fireball. Ducking and dodging, Thatch let out a screeched. 

"Oh, watch it, not everyone is fireproof like you."

All the screaming and explosion brought nurses running in. Ace brought out more fireballs at the doctors trying to get close to him. 

"Back off!" 

Thatch noticed, that as more people entered the room made Ace more uncomfortable, the kids face turning red as more flames erupted around his shoulders and trickled down his arms. He immediately ordered everyone out of the room and hoped that someone thought to grab first division commander, there was no way he stood a chance against Logia powers. All he could do was talk the firefly down till Marco came or till Ace tired himself out. He could already tell the would have to make some minor repairs to the sick bay, the bad-tempered firefly had scorched the sheets and walls might need a new coat of paint.

"Ace you need to calm down this is a sick bay and there are some flammable liquids in this room. So, unless you want send the ship up in flames with you on it… You need to put your flames out." Thatch tried to reason with Ace.

Okay so maybe it wasn't a good idea to come here alone. How was he to know that today of all days Ace would choice to wake up? His mind raced. 

"Oi! FIRE BRAT, PUT THAT FIRE OUT!" the first division commander snapped, flinging the door open.  
Ace stared at the new comer. He was lean, muscular, blonde-haired man with a rather sleepy look on his face and some stubble around his chin. He wears an open purple jacket and a light blue sash adorned with an elaborate golden-yellow belt around his waist. 

Ace’s mind raced, this man was first division commander, Marco the Phoenix, and holder of Mythical Zoan phoenix ability. He was Whitebeard's closest confidante and his right-hand man. Hatred boiled in his veins. He lunching himself across the room and at Marco as his flames grew hotter. Seeing the twitch in Ace's muscles even before he moved, Marco pushed Thatch out the way and meet the boy head on. Their flames clashed together mixing and twirling until the flames turned purple and licked at the ceiling. Marco forced his flames to freezing temperatures stopping the room from catching fire. 

"Look! I knew you just woke up but you can't and won't start fires here! Yoi."

Ace snorted. "Like I'm really going to listen to anything you have to say,” he seethed, “You took me from my crew, your keeping me here against my will, and you except me to do what you say! Your crazy, I'm getting off this ship at the next island!"

"That's not point right now,” Rolling his eyes the blond continued, “Pop might want you part of the crew however, you can't go around busting in flames, even if your angry, yoi. You almost hit the nurses yoi, their innocent! Not to mention your throwing flames around in the room with the most flammable liquids on the ship? Are you trying to blow everyone up, yoi!? That means you and your crew too.” He practically snarled.

Ace winced, forcing himself to calm down. Maybe that wasn't the best course of action on his part. His mind race, it’s been fourteen days since his fight-one sided it had been- against the strongest man alive…not mention before that he fought for five days straight no food, water, sleep, or break. Ace’s mind began to swim as he began to really take in everything. His crew was nowhere in sight, he didn’t even know if they were alive, or if they left him to his fate.

Marco did not take Ace silence well, if this Ace was anything like his once beloved prince… no matter what life they were living Ace and silence don't go well together. The last time he had waited too long to gain his attention, a fire was started, tears were shed, and he had been band from seeing the prince for months. Knowing he would be adding fuel to fire Marco strode forward poking Ace in his chest drawing his attention back to him. No matter how hot-headed Ace was he wasn't a senseless killer, he didn't kill unless he had to. 

Grinning wickedly, Marco said as casually as he could. "Pull another stunt like that while on this ship I'll slap a pair of sea stone cuff on you so fast your head will spin yoi."

Ace weighed his options carefully, he rather have his fire than be defenseless on an enemy ship, not when he didn’t know what they wanted from him.

Crossing his arms mockingly, "Fine no fire, anything else?” his voice came out harsh.

Jeering at the blond commander, he couldn’t help but feel the hair on his neck stand up and his stomach churn. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t ask them to take him onto their ship! Now, there threatening to take his fire from him? It was the only thing he had here. His bag with his pictures of his brothers and his treasures were back on the Spade’s ship, he couldn’t lose his fire. He’d play nice, but, he thought eyeing the smug smile that graced Marco’s face, he really wanted to see how hard he could punch the Phoenix’s face. 

This is what Marco hated about Ace he could be such a smartass when he really wanted to be. 

"No, yoi." Marco said stiffly. 

Thatch watched from the sidelines. Marco was known for being cool, calm, and generally lazy level-headedness in the face of adversity or challenge; the only emotional moments he has shown so far were directly related to Whitebeard's health and the crew. It almost knocked Thatch off his feet to see him so emotional, to see the blue eyes dancing with emotion so vividly. The only explanation, he could think of to explain Marco's behavior, is he hated the kid! 

"Good, now leave me alone!" Ace snarled.

Sighing Thatch couldn't help but point out, trying to be helpful. “Pop’s wants you on his crew, BUT your manners really need some work, you'll never make friends here if you’re so bratty." 

Ace's voice rang sharp and straight to the point. "Let's get some things straight I'm NOT here because I want to be. I'm not here to make friends.”

With sharp teeth and wicked smile, he announced “I am here for one reason, I'm here to kill your captain!"   
Ace turned his back on them lying back down in his bed with his arms under his head. 

Smirking he turned his head back to them "One more thing, trust me this pineapple bird brain, and shity posh cook I'll never join your crew!" 

There was a long intense pause, that made the air think, like a fog had rolled through the room and blanket them. Marco studied Ace silently for a long moment.

"If you say so, yoi." Turning his head, Marco got his brother’s attention, “Have the nurse look at him and bring him some food, I need to get back to work you, and so do you." 

"Well firefly you heard the man what can get you?" The chief asked, a grin play at his lips but his back tense and straight. 

Ace snorted, "Your captains head on a silver platter."

Thatch glared harshly before taking a deep breath with bared teeth, he tried again, "Like I said before, your manners need work.” Pausing for a moment, he thought of all the people that lived on this ship and their stories, “Wait, do you know what manners are?" he asked.   
Ace hissed. 

Thatch ignored him pressing forward "Name it. Anything at all, I can cook it!"

Ace released a string of curse words not even Thatch had heard before in all his travels.  
"For the last time! I Don't Want Any of Your Crappy Cooking! Now GO Away!" The room warmed and a pillow was thrown.

The pillow hit the wall and fell to the floor with a soft thump.

"My food isn't crappy, you having even tried it yet." Thatch pouted. "I'll bring you something anyway, the nurses should be in soon."

Ace heard him leave, shutting the door gently behind him after tossing the pillow back. Looking over his shoulder, making sure he was truly alone. Sitting up and crossing his arms, he thought out plans. He needed to play nice. Well, he supposed to, nice with the nurses until he was healed. He needs to take a look at the map room, figure out where they were heading and where to meet up with his crew. He could start planning on the best to beat Whitebeard, after that, and take his head.

From what he knew about the Whitebeard crew, they had some kind of honor code. They didn't kill if they didn't need too. So, there was still a chance his crew was alive. All he had to was make it out of this alive and track them down. He couldn't wait to be free and back to the sea! They wouldn’t keep him in a cage long.

His stomach growled and bubbled angrily, making him think about the five-day battle and five days without food. Looking down at himself he flinched slightly, those five days had cost him, adding the days he was unconscious, his ribs could be seen and counted clearly. Shaking his head, he ignored the way his stomach disagreed with his plan. His stomach cramped in hungry pain. This was nothing, he told himself, he'll just wait till everyone was asleep to raid the kitchen. Till then he could handle discomfort. He wouldn't give this idiot the satisfaction of seeing him eat his cooking.

All he had to do was hold on till nightfall. He could last a few days on the Moby Dick, take Whitebeard's head, and then get off this damn ship. But first he had to find out how far till the next island. And, he thought, as his stomach rumbled louder, get some food.


	3. Chapter 3

Marco wasn’t sure what to make of this whole mess. Or rather he wasn’t sure what to make of himself.  
He was sitting in his room, on his bed that was made of lavish blankets of spun reds, golds, and blues- the colors of his princes. His head was in his hands and he took shaky deep breaths as his mind flew into a hurricane the likes of the Grand Line had never seen- which was saying something because the Grand Line was made of storms.

He desperately wanted to hold his beloved in his arms again, to hear that joyful laugh, and have those red flames curl around his blue. He knew his prince though, even if he had been reborn and had no memories.  
It was somewhat of a pattern he had noticed with each interaction with his friends and family that were reincarnated. No matter how they were raised, who their parents now where, and their situations growing up, their core personalities always shined through.  
His mind ached as he thought back to forty years after the death of the D kingdom. The once great kingdom nothing but ash. He had been alone, wondering an island that use to trade with them. He was just passing through, walking through their markets.

He gave a sharp gasp as he thought back.  
The market themselves were on the water, large Adam Wood docks that reached far out into the sea. If anyone with a bird zoan fruit were to pass they would tell everyone of the island that was shaped like the sun, docks that grew out of the sand and dirt and spread out like branches into the clear sea. On most were shops, fruits, flowers, breads, cloth, and such were sold in large open market stalls that lines each boardwalk. Large wooden beams held up a roof of glass, painted in light colors. During the day, when the skies were clear the colors would dance off the stalls and the people that walked through. At night the moon made the glass gave the illusion of the sea, ever flowing and life brining. It was under these rooves that grand ceremonies and parties were held and suddenly Marcus body ached and hurt in ways he was use to, an ache he associated with lose.

The three princes of the D Kingdom had been tasked with diplomatic meeting between the two allies. Training their father had said, no matter how bad they did this kingdom would never turn against them. After all, this was the Queen’s home island. Marco and his father had been tasked with leading the guards that were mandatory to send.

Of course, with any royal meeting, the royal family had greeted their nephews with a large party. With the full moon overhead lighting up the painted glass, the boys danced, ate, and made merry.

“Marcusss,” Asce giggled, his crown having been placed on his younger cousin’s head hours ago, and his face bright red, “Dance with me!”

“No thank you,” he told the prince, he father watching amusingly as red colored his cheeks, “I have to stand guard.”

Holding his head higher and back straighter he tried to ignore the prince’s giggling. His eyes moving away to find the blond prince dancing around a brown-haired girl, a large smile on his face and fire reflecting in his eyes. A hand hit his back and his father grabbed his spear, a small amused smile was playing at his   
face.  
“This is just a formality,” he assured his son, pushing him towards the dark-haired prince, “Go, have fun.”  
Asce snatched his hand and started to pull him closer to the fire pit, ignoring Marcus’ feeble protest. He stopped them a few feet from the fire before twirling himself around Marcus rigid form for a few moments before he edged him on.

“Come on, don’t tell me you can’t dance!”

Scowling, the blond bowed his head before he fallowed the prince into an elaborate dance of twist, turns, quick feet, and warm hearts. They stepped closer together and spun each other around, and as the moon rose in the sky, they never noticed when the people that danced besides them fled to the sidelines to watch.  
Asce eyes sparkled and his frame glowed as fire was lit across his shoulders, circling around his lethal frame, and highlighting the gold of his skirt. Marcus smiled, rolling his shoulders so his own blue and gold flames rolled around his body in waved like the ocean. Before long they were nothing but silhouette of blue, gold, red, and orange flames. The flames left their bodies, rolling across the ground in sparks before dying out at the toes of the surrounding audience.

After that night, legends were told of the dancing flames that had blessed the festivals of the Portgas kingdom.  
Marcus was so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed that he wondered into the very market until he ran straight into someone. A familiar woman with honey blond hair was picking herself up, carefully grabbing at the fruits that had rolled out of her weaved basket. Marcus sat back, his eyes wide and mouth open as he gasped in shock.

“Mo-mom?” He chocked.

The blond looked up and stared at him in confusion.

“My name is Yome,” huffing she stood up, “and your forgiven, next time watch where you’re going, you could have ended up going straight off the docks!” she scolded.

Marcus couldn’t help the warmth and happiness he felt curl around his chest, the joy of having his mother scold him again.

“Its, I’m sorry, I was just distracted.” He assured her, trying to find some sort of sign that showed she recognized him.

“Well, one thing at a time.”

Marcus stayed on that island long after she died, after the birth of a brown haired little boy, she had named Thatcher that Marcus had watched over diligently, as any older brother should. He was disappointed when even after all the years had passed, Yome had only known him as her kindly neighbor and not the son she had, had a lifetime ago. She was the same though, the same no nonsense, but kind woman that had raised him. Even if she never remembered.

It was because of that that he had so happily followed Whitebeard, as the man had never questioned when Marco took interest in someone and brought them onto their ship. Thatch had been the first, his younger brother from before- he had taken his hand and snarling teeth and brought him to Whitebeard with hopeful eyes and a plea.

“Let him stay, please.” His voice echoed in his head, “He might not remember me, but he’s still mine.”  
Thatch never remembered his older brother. He’d apologize later, those words of familiarity on his tongue apologizing for not remembering things that had happened thousands of years ago. He had only mentioned it that once. Visita, Yome, and more had been brought to the ship in the same fashion, Marco’s eyes tearfulling looking at Whitebeard until the man just laughed.

“GURHAHAHA, if they are yours then they are ours.” He’d claim.

After that Marco would bring people and welcome them, his father’s amused smile and welcoming laugh calling them to a new home.


	4. Chapter 4

Traveling on a boat you didn’t want to be on was a lot like being in a cage. Ace hated being caged, confined, not free- it made him think of his brothers and how much they all strived for freedom and then his chest felt tight from missing them and the fear of being not free made him sweat. But he was on a boat in the New World. While he could hide in the storages rooms for probably forever it was just not how he wanted to live. For now, though, now they would have to do. So, the first thing Ace did was find a hiding place. Nestled in between the wood of the ship and random assortment of items, he found a place in their storage room. 

Almost completely on the other side of the room from the door, he climbed over boxes, crates, and the like until he found a small hole he claimed as his own. While it wasn’t the most comfortable it was a place to put his things and hide out until he took Whitebeard’s head.  
He smooshed himself into such a small corner and hidden himself so well that if anyone came looking for him or came for supplies they wouldn’t find anything belonging to him or himself admits the box, crates, barrels, and other such things. The had kept everything were it was so there was no sign of him having been there either. Ace counted himself luck as all of the supplies were securely places and if not tied down.

While he knew he could probably lift anything they carried on board, he would rather not be woken up to a barrel or crate falling on him. Despite his ache for his brothers and the anger over being caged he thought positively, he had carefully gone through boxes, making sure not to move them or remember where they were so he could put them back, and he had found fabrics, blankets, and softer things to add to his hiding nook. It was actually more comfortable then he was used to, when he thought back to the hard wood floors of the tree house and Dadan’s country. Carefully he hid his watermelon bag in a small narrow hole near his nest before getting ready to sleep- he’d try for Whitebeards head in the morning.

 

Sleep didn’t come to him easily that night, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. He missed his home, not Dawn Island, but the home with his beloved brothers. He missed Sabo and Luffy, their laughter and smiled, their teasing and reassuring hugs. Rubbing at the tattooed S on his arm he couldn’t help but think of what it would be like if Sabo was with him now. He’d probably lecture him, ace decided, he could give him a tongue lashing, up and down, going on about his stupid plan to challenge the strongest man in the world! Sabo would be justified in calling him stupid. But, Sabo would support him in his dream, saying he needed to plan first and with his strength he could take down Whitebeard. His blond brother was always supportive. Luffy would just laugh and tell him to try again…  
His eyes began to sluggishly shut as a smile played on his lips, the laughter of his youngest brother ringing in his ears.

He woke up in room. Covered in silk bedding and with large walk through windows that were splayed wide open letting the dawn’s rays make the room glow. There was a desk and wardrobe made out of dark wood, and a large mirror just after the desk. Had the Whitebeard Pirates found him and moved him? Before Ace could untangle himself from the bed spread a loud shout came from the hall and the door was flung open.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCSSSSSSEEEEEEEEE!”

Automatically bracing himself the second he heard the voice; a body was flung on top of him.

“ACSE IT’S TIME TO GET UP! It’s my birthday!” the familiar voice cheered.

Peaking up from the blanket Ace was meet with the face of his baby brother… but not. There was no scare under his eyes and a small dusting of freckles danced around his nose. His eyes though, shone a dark chocolate brown he knew better then his own, and pearly whites were shown as his mouth stretched into a grin. His faze moved down. His brother wasn’t dressed in his usual blue cut off shorts and red shirt, instead wrapped around his waist was a skirt of large dark leaves, cloth that seemed to sparkle in the light, and colorful feathers.

Before he could question what was going on another voice called out from the door.

“Lufianiti,” as the other man came through the room, Ace’s breath left him, “You didn’t need to wake us up for this.”

Sabo stood tall, with blond hair curling around his shoulders and his face set in an angry pout. He was dressed just as strangely as Luffy, wearing a skirt almost identical save for the sparkles it seemed to have blue clothes woven in with the leaves.

“But it’s my brithdayyyyy.” The youngest boy whined.

Pushing his younger brother off of him, Ace stood up and finally took in the room around him. The room was large, about the size of Dadan entire cabin, with rich fabrics of reds, yellows, and oranges that decorated the walls and hung heavily over large windows. His bed was a tree, twisted and shaped into a flat surface before the branches continued up and out holes in the ceiling and walls. He had never seen anything like it before.

“It’s okay Blu,” his mouth moved without his consent, his eyes widened as he gracefully moved to a latch in the wall and took out unfamiliar clothes, unable to control his actions.

“If you say so,” the blond muttered, reaching forward to pull the smaller boy towards the door, 

“Come Lu, mother is surely awake, she will be waiting for you.” He told the squirming boy.

Laughing the boy turned on his heel and rushed out the door.

“You don’t have to humor him.” the blond said dryly.

“Tis his birthday.” His voice spoke as he panicked inside his mind.

Dressing quickly, he followed his blond brother out the door. The rest of the building was the same, made from twisting trees and shinning stones. The windows were either stained colored glass or no glass at all, creating dancing colors inside the building. Ace took all that in as his feet lead him down the halls, his hands raising to wave at passing figures, some that looked familiar, that tickled his mind and whispered in his ear that he knew them.

It was as they passed through a large arch way- so Large that Whitebeard would have no trouble walking through, that his attention was caught. Inside the room, with her arms around Luffy, was a strawberry blond woman, with a crown of flowers tipped in gold and freckles dancing under dark chocolate eyes alight in joy.

His breath left him, and he knew, he knew in the same way he knew he could trust Luffy and Sabo with anything, the way he knew how to control his devil fruit the second he ate it, he knew… this was Rogue, his mother.

Ace sat up, panting as his mind raced. The storage room on the Moby Dick was dark and did not make him feel any better. Relaxing his shoulders, he allowed some small flames to rise and float around him, as his hands made it way to his head, pulling and tugging at loose dark curls.

“What was that?”


	5. Chapter 5

Ace knew he couldn’t slack off, not while he was held up on Whitebeard’s ship. Finding empty rooms on the ship was surprisingly hard but once he did he claimed them as his own, turning empty storage rooms, bed rooms, and just closest into places to train and think.

He woke before the cooks, slipping into the kitchen to grab some meats, vegetables, breads, and fruits, but only the ones he could identify. He’d quickly take his meal into one of his hiding places and flash fry with his flames. It was hard, having to make do with what he could easily steal and not being able to get anything spicy. After eating his devil fruit, he had taken a particular liking to hot and spicy foods to a point that anything too sweet made his stomach rebel. He couldn’t grab those things though especially because he couldn’t even grab enough for his monstrous appetite to begin with! No, he had taken to “feeding” his flames spare woods and cloth to make the hunger pains subside just a little. (though how he found out he could technically ‘eat’ flammable foods was a completely other story that should not be mentioned) His frame was slowly getting skinner even with him eating clothes, blankets, woods, and anything he could get his hands on that wouldn’t be noticed missing.

With the hunger keeping him awake and his stubbornness making sure his narcolepsy didn’t make an appearance where anyone could see him, Ace suddenly had a lot of time on his hands. He had stumbled into a room that had a couple hundred transponder snails- so like any good thief would do- he snagged like five. Not, that is to say, that he could call anyone. His crew had a snail but he never thought to learn the number. Not because he was too busy or dumb or anything he just had never needed it or saw a reason to need it. How was he supposed to know he’d be kidnapped by the strongest man in the world? Beyond that, while Makino had a snail he had never thought of possibly getting her number because it was used to call shitty Gramps or Shanks. Luffy and the bandits don’t have a snail, he wasn’t even sure his little brother knew how to work one! Sabo was dead and he would rather die than call Shitty gramps- shitty gramps would probably kill him for becoming a pirate so there was no point there anyways. He had Shanks number, but he couldn’t ask him for help. Not when it could start a war between the two emperors. So, he had 5 snails, and no one to call.

“This is rather depressing.” He muttered to himself, carefully feeding the snails some salad.

“I don’t suppose you guys can talk on your own?” he asked hopefully.

The snails shook their bodies and their eyes swayed back and forth.

“I’m taking that as no. Well, whatever,” Scowling heavily, “I’m going to talk to you guys anyway…”

So, he spoke of his brothers. “I had two brothers, Sabo who was smart, he was teaching me how to read. He was such a weak kid when we first met. Didn’t know how to fight or nothing. I taught him that, how to skin a boar and gut it to. He, he was a good brother. And Luffy, he’s not dumb, he’s smart in his own way… really, he is! He knows a weird amount of information about beetles, I’m not sure exactly why he likes them so much... I built him an entire thing to show them off. He doesn’t just know about beetles, he just, he gets people. Everyone says his eyes are vacant that he’s not all there, but they’re not true. He can look into people, understand them at their core. He’s- he’s something else. He’ll be the king one day, I know it.”

He told them of the shitty Geezer and the bandits. “…and once he tied Luffy to a swarm of balloons and just set him off into the air. I ran after him before the geezer could tie me up. He floated out a good mile of the coast, so, I swam out there. It was a good thing Sabo made us practice so much after Luffy became ours. We nearly drowned that day. I never saw Dadan stand up to Garp, he never threw Lu towards water again.”

It was as he spoke that some of the snails began to change, one began to freckle, another one day got a scare, and the third lines formed on it’s front to show off cross bones under a blue S.

“And you guys wouldn’t believe the dreams I’ve been having…”


	6. Chapter 6

Whitebeard sat back against his seat, resting. His sons didn't want him doing much seeing as he had caught a small cold. His head was hurting, his eyes we're throbbing, and his body ached all over. He had gotten away with it a few days till he made the mistake of sneezing in front of Yome. She had immediately put in an older to bring him his blanket and to replace his water with different herbal teas.  
Now Whitebeard wasn't a fool, old maybe, but no fool, and something was going on. Maybe something else like-He knew, his eldest son was in the middle of it, he thought while eying the children his eldest had picked out for him.

The crew had docked at one of the islands under their protection in Paradise. A much-needed vacation, he had called for. The only problem was his children that had already been sent off on missions. Some, thirty of his children were off ship, gathering information, reports and offerings from protected islands, and such. His beloved eldest was out on one mission after he instead. He granted his blessing for the mission, knowing his son needed to get away, if only for a little bit. 

The only reason Marco ever demands to leave the ship is when he has had to many flashbacks. When he grew tense being along the men and women he knew through a lifetime and know did not remember. When his burden became to much and not even the comfort of his father’s arms would calm him. Edward had watched, when the spitfire of a brat, named fire-fist, had come on board, he had watched as Marco’s face became more and more pained and dark circles hung under his eyes.  
So, Whitebeard knew he needed to keep an eye on all those he had gathered from Marco’s past and the new brat. It was as he was watching them that he came to the conclusion of his eldest’ absence. It could be seen in Vista’s katan forms taking a new stances and forms, something that looked like the of modern day katan, before the look of confusion passed over his face. With Yome, one of his head nurses, started using more herbs and alternative medicines, things that had fallen out of practice before he, Whitebeard, was born.

The changes did not stop there, one the way to their vacation island Yome and Thatch had taken small groups of people into the islands they passed. Each time, they came back with large barrels of herbs, berries, and the like- planets that many of his other children had never heard of. Thatch and Yome exchanged the goods readily, making medical pastes and recipes, Marco had once talked about so fondly. It was an amusing sight to see his children, experts in their fields, asking so many questions.

"Father?" Whitebeard put his drink down, the warm feeling he had come to cherish whenever any of his children called him pops, dad, or oyaji bloomed in his chest. His children had never been so formal, this was new.

"Yes Yome, what is it?"

She held a tray up towards him, “I brought you a drink.”

"Oh, thank you what is might I ask it's sweet but earthy?"

"It called Agaricus subrufescens,” she said promptly, her eyes sparkling as she continued to inform him, “I’ve ground it up very fine making a tea out of it than added honey to sweeten it along with Ginseng and Ginger. I've also had the cooks grind up some of the extra Agaricus subrufescens to make into drinks for the whole crew! Everyone will be drinking at least two to three up from now on a daily basis." 

"I see and what does this Agaricus subrufescens do?" He asked her, trying not to show her how amused he was by her excitement.

"Is a species of mushroom, commonly known as almond mushroom, mushroom of the sun, God's mushroom, mushroom of life, royal sun agaricus, jisongrong, or himematsutake its used as an anti-cancer effect. I've also took the liberty of having the cooks trying to use other wild herbs and flowers in their cooking it's why there was so many different snacks this morning at breakfast the cooks are experimenting, tweaking and critiquing different recipes or making new ones." 

Humming out loud, Whitebeard asked her another question "Interesting Yome if you don't mind me asking how you came across theses wild ingredients?"

He watched as her eyes seemed to glaze over and her lips pulled down into a frown, “I think I read it somewhere?”

Shaking her head, Yome turned and started walking away. Her voicing going lower as she talked to herself. It was as she did so, that Edward remembered when his blond-haired son had first brought Yome on board. How a few days later Marco had come to his captain, his face set in deep sorrow as he began to weave a tale about the great healer of an ancient island. If Whitebeard recalled, Marco’s fond remembrance of a fierce woman that when deep in thought would talk under her breath and argue with herself about what to do but would always pull through.

“Gurarara,” Whitebeard chuckled, watching as Yome walked towards the medical bay. It was as his gaze followed her that he noticed the commotion on the deck. 

Vista walked with his back straight and with measure steps, marching as if on a battle field.

“"These exercises are helpfully I know a lot of us don't work together because of being in different divisions but this is need I'll 've training everyone in the crew this way sooner or later.”  
Vista was in front of thirty of his crewmates, ranging from divisions and rank. Ace even sat close by listening to fifth division commander. 

“Now back up some away from each other in the barrels are small boa staffs grab two each and follow my lead,” many hurried ran over to the barrels, fighting over long wooden staffs Edward did not remember ever seeing, “You’re going to copy me, if I move my feet- you move your feet, got it? Every movement has a two to four count.”

Carefully he began to move, deliberately stepping slowly so his siblings could follow. After a few minutes had passed, and five of his children had tripped or gotten smacked unsuspectingly, Vista spoke up again, his tone laced with amusement though his face was set. 

“The moments force you to be aware of the person to the side of you, in front and behind you weather their ally or foe you most always be aware and of your moment. While your copying me I'm slowing down and spending up in random intervals, you never know what moment is next or how quick I change it up. The reason I switch up like this is to help with your reaction time you’re not going to be able to always look around you, so this help you be aware of everyone and yourself." 

Yes, Whitebeard thought to himself, his children were changing. 

“Lidia be a dear and grab me my den den mushi,” he asked one of his daughter nurses, his gaze watching as Ace moved to follow the training, his stance coming in naturally and looking incredibly like the form he had tried to use against Jimbei. 

“Here you go, Oyaji.” Her voice came out softly, holding up the snail with wide eyes, “Who are you calling?”

“Mhmm,” he spoke absentmindedly as he dialed, “I think, your brother needs to return home.”

The nurses gave each other heavy looks. One quickly hurriedly went to find Yome, one of the nurse heads. Oyaji never called any of them back unless one of the other Yonkos were causing trouble. The last time something like this happened they had gone to war with Big Mom for nearly three years. 

By nightfall the whole crew was informed that their brothers and sisters were being called back, and preparations for battle had started. Food, weapons, and medication had started to be counted and re-arranged. They would not do more, unless their father gave his orders, but for now the crew waited in tense silence. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"Izo?" 

 

"Yes Thatch?" Izo hummed, carefully combing parts of his hair out as his own gaze kept strict watch on the horizon. 

"I was wondering if you could help me with my hair." Studying the bashful blush staining his cheeks and ears, Izo giggled.

"What is it you need help with?" 

"It seems that there is a snag in the back I can't really get it out without pulling so I was hoping you could untangle it for me." 

Izo watched the pompadour wearing man for a long moment, before smiling patting the floor in front of him, invitingly. 

Izo leaned up against a min in pile of pillows. Thatch sitting between his legs with his back pressed against his chest. Izo smiles softly moving with the utmost gentleness, cards his fingers through his hair, dividing it carefully into sections all the while finger detangling. When the crew had still been relatively small, many of his siblings had come to him, weather it for clothes, makeup, of hair, he used to spend nights carefully untangling sea swept hair and whispering how to apply makeup so ocean water would not make it run. 

They sit in silence not paying any mind to the many eyes that watched them. It's was very relaxing and very rare for Thatch to be so quiet, curious and slightly worried Izo murmured.

"Is everything alright?" 

"Hmm? You needed worried about me. I'm alright just tried,” he told him sluggishly, his head lolling slightly, 

“I suppose I haven't been sleeping very well lately.”

“Oh?” Izo inquired gently, working his fingers through a large knot.

“I’ve been having these strange dreams, there not strange by themselves but I keep getting this feeling…”   
shaking his head to clear it, he winced when it forced Izo to pull at a large clump of hair he was working on, 

“Ow, I wake up in this dream, and I’m in this cabin. It small and warm, well lived in.”

“How is that strange?”

“It’s not! It’s not that part.” He protested, “but I have this feeling, like it’s home. And you know, you know I grew up in an orphanage in the North Blue, three stories high that place was before I took to the streets. But this place, it feels like the Moby, and it’s like a itch in my head. Fuzzy images. I'm there and so is this woman too I can't see her face, yet I know she's beautiful. Her hair is very long a rich mahogany that reached almost past her hips pulled back into a long thick braid that has beads and flowers decorating it. And I don’t know why I know how long her hair is when it’s undone, and I don’t know why, even though her back is turned to me I know she is one of the most beautiful women in the word. Like I know her eyes are the same color as mine, and she talks to me like I’m one of the most important people in the world to her!” Thatch ranted.

“A past lover maybe?”

“No, no, ew, Oda no.” his face scrunched up in disgust, “More like, you or pops…she’s… I don’t know, she’s family.”

“Maybe it’s a memory from before you were in the orphanage? Maybe it’s a memory of your mother.” Izo suggested.

“I don’t know… maybe, but Izo, the strange thing is… she spoke like Marco. You know? When he’s super stressed or worried about one of us, all warm and gentle- that little accent he gets? . Don't tell Marco I said this, but personally I like when he gets like that.”

Izo smiled "Don't worry your secret is safe with me.” 

For a long moment the silence sat heavily between them. 

“There, all done, your hair is as good as new.” Izo said smugly, pushing Thatch out of his lap and dusting off his kimono. 

Thatch ran his own fingers through his hair with a smile blooming on his lips, even as his eyes seemed to be dazed.

Tilting his head, Izo took the chance to ask. “I'm curious though you never let anyone touch your hair so why come to me?" 

"It stems back from my childhood; my hair was just as long as yours if not longer.” He said fondly, fingers twitching as they sat on his nape, “The villagers hated it, the orphanage care takers too, said it made me look like a little girl. People would come in to adopt and think I was a girl, get a nasty shock. I didn’t much care, I had a need for it to be long, in my heart… maybe your right, maybe because of the woman in my dreams is my mother…” he trailed off.

“Anyway, this one night this drunk dirtbag found me and try to get handsy with me. He was holding onto my hair pulling it and I knew I had to escape so I wrenched myself free, pulling out a lot of my hair in the process- that hurt like a bitch,” he told Izo before shrugging, “Since then, kept it shorter. I miss my long hair but well, figured I should put that to rest. Haven’t really let anyone else touch my hair since then. I chose you because you take such good care of your own hair, figured you wouldn’t do anything too bad to my own.”

" Thank you for trusting me." Izo smiled, placing his calloused hand on Thatch’s shoulder, unsure himself if he was talking about the dream or the hair.

"What Vista did today was a good idea, I didn't even realize I needed to trust more." Thatch announced, smiling blindingly at the shorter male.

Nodding in agreement, Izo turned to make his way towards their father, calling over his shoulder, "I'm going to go to bed good night everyone."


	7. Chapter 7

It must have been sometime past midnight when Garp arrived back to Foosha. Though it had been nearly thirty years since he actually lived on the island, it was the only place he would call home. Making the long track up the mountain side to the base of Dandan, Garp's sleepily mind picked up on the faint sound of music playing. His mind rang dully, and an odd sense of familiarity tickled him. He knew the song, though he couldn’t quite place where he had heard it. Tilting his head, he let his ears guide him. Turning right instead of left, he passed the old tree house hidden behind the thickness of the thicket’s bushes, he knew his grandchildren had abandoned after his blond grandson had left the island. He passed the river, the pile of rocks that vaguely looked like a head, and the Tiger Lord’s cave. The song grew louder with each passing step until he stumbled upon a pond, that he did not remember from his youth.

Hidden from sight, Garp crouched down low listening closely. The music was old. A mix of drums, violin, humming, and stomping feet. Peering around the tree, Garp gazed into the darkness. Luffy, his youngest grandson was dancing in the moonlight, surrounded by fireflies, and low hanging fog. His figure, even as it turned and twirled, seemed to glow. His hair was flowing around him, creating small waves of black. His once short hair was long, longer then Garp had ever remember it being. It touched his shoulder even though half of it was pulled up.

Though, Garp thought as he caught sight of the scare that ran under Luffy’s eye, without Makino or Ace to cut it, he supposes his grandson simple didn’t remember. His gaze traveled up, when a small sparkle of white caught his attention, it was only then that he noticed the crown that sat on his head. Laying on his head was a crown of nightshade flowers white and purple twinned together with baby breath. He blinks twice not quite believing what he was seeing. Maybe it was more of if he should trust his vision. If he was dreaming, Gasped prayed, he never awoke.

For a moment his vison double, and he could remember a night like this, nearly forty years ago. Dragon, his own son, dancing around the fire pit with his own flower crown made of his wife’s red flowers.

Luffy had woken up after his mid-afternoon nap, something the three brothers had implemented after Ace and to a lesser extent Luffy himself had been diagnosed with Narcolepsy. With no way to really get the medication, the brothers had taken to a stricter nap schedule. Or rather as strict as three children, left to care for themselves could get. Luffy had woken up with a deep urge. As he had never questioned these urges, (the same ones that told him Shanks, Ace, and Sabo, were family) he quickly got up to follow them. 

He dug through all his clothes until he found his purple and gold harem pants, he quickly changed before running out into the woods. Without much thought to why, he gathers flowers and berries, before heading towards the river. He weaved most of the flowers together, before making a fine paste with the berries, using the reflection from the river to paint his face a shoulder with the berries.

It was as the sun set that he made his way towards the pound. As the fog rolled in, a fast temp music echoed through the woods. The warm climate of the island kept him warm, even on the longest night of the year.  
Dancing in nothing but harem pants was Luffy his moments enchanting his upper half still while is hips did all the work. His mind wondered while he danced, and words bubbled up through his lips.

“I hear your voice on the wind  
And I here you call out my name

"Listen my child, " you say to me  
"I am the voice of your history  
Be not afraid, come follow me  
Answer my call and I'll set you free"

He twirled, stepping onto the wet earth and his foot just skimming over the water. The words leaving his lips, calmed him and made him smile. It was a warm feeling blossoming in his chest and consumed his body, that let the other words tumble through his lips. It was as the words tumbled past his lips that his grandfather carefully slid into place by a large oak tree, his gaze firm in its focus.

“I am the voice in the wind and the pouring rain  
I am the voice of your hunger and pain  
I am the voice that always is calling you  
I am the voice, I will remain

I am the voice in the fields when the summer's gone  
The dance of the leaves when the autumn winds blow  
Ne'er do I sleep throughout all the cold winter long  
I am the force that in springtime will grow”

Luffy turned, his eyes sliding closed, yet not missing a step. His shoulders rolled, hips dipped and shimmied. The music sped up and Luffy stopped singing, his hand reaching out to grab at his metal pipe. His hands performing the techniques in a fluid movement perfectly, his stances from a long-disappeared style now brought back before his grandfather’s eyes.

Luffy dance and sang until the sun was rising, twirling to a finished stop as the fog dispersed and his chest heaved. Some voice inside his head whispered that he had done a good job in completing the first right of winter. Falling to his knees, Luffy relaxed into the earth, falling into a deep sleep. Knowing, that the next right was for his brother and that his job was done.

Stepping out of the shadows, Garp moved forward to gather his sleeping grandson. Tucking his smaller form close, he began the track towards Dadan’s. His mind wondering to the unsettling feeling of how right the dance had seemed. Humming the tune of the song to himself, he walked through the woods in a daze. Dragon had been compelled by the same force he had in his youth. He wondered if it was a D thing, or something else.

Far off across the sea, Ace flung his catch of Sea King onto the deck, pulling his knife out of its hilt with a flourish. As midnight gave way to the early hours of the morning, Ace dragged his knife through the large animal, spilling the blood onto the Adam’s wood of the Moby Dick.  
Carefully he brought some over to the side, dropping the stomach and intestines into the sea. Eyes hard as he continued the ritual, he and Luffy had done for years. Taking the heart, still warm from the body, he bit into. Once for himself, another for his brothers, and the third for his crew. Nodding in satisfaction, he carried the heart over to the side of the ship.

Mumbling a prayer to the stars and the sea for protection and the protections of his family and nakama, he threw the heart overboard. Watching it sail through the air before landing with a small splash, he bowed before turning back to the corpse of the Sea King.  
He could not eat until dawn broke over the horizon, so he busied himself with butchering the animal and putting it into the kitchen storage unit. While he hated Whitebeard, he couldn’t waste food, especially not the sacrifice of the season.

Farther away in a secret base, Dragon stood tall as he dipped his hand into oil and painted marking onto Sabo’s forehead.

“Next year, you will perform the first rite and in turn bring the blessing onto the true king of the people. The gods shine down on us this night and they will shine on us each night we follow the old ways,”


	8. Winter Solstice with Marco

Despite being away on vacation, Marco couldn’t help but conduct the old winter solstice rituals- the old religion and its ways was something, even after all these years, he couldn’t quite shake.

No matter how many years have gone by and lifetimes he had lived through- or people he was with- he still went about preparing a mini feast as if it was time hadn’t changed everything. Picking fresh tea leaves, mints, thyme, basil, and fennel along with stir fried vegetables.

Shakky walked into the room with quiet steps, her arms laden with thick furs. Having gotten rather use to the ritual even if she never fully remembered.

"Hey little chicky." She called to him gently.

Looking up from grinding the sesame seeds, Marco snorted at the nickname. "Hi auntie, where's uncle?"

"Doing the same as you. I suppose,” dropping the furs, she gathered her own supplies to start cleaning them, offering an off handed “I missed you." 

Laughing Marco at the bout of affection, knowing she had only vague knowledge of what it truly meant, "Missed you too.”

For a long moment they both worked in silence. Shakky with water, brush, and towel, while Marco grinded seeds into fine dust.

Marco sighed heavily, his voice growing fond and wistful. “It is the winter solstice, once more. And while I enjoy are small celebration, I miss the festival by the Goddess Tree, our home cities meals, the fire lanterns that lit the sky, the-” His voice shook as he chocked on the very memory, “The dances the royal family held- the music that filled the castle.”

Shakky put down the pelt and took a drag from her cigarette, eyes glazed in thought, “I know, I know none of us remember like you. But the whispers that my mind give me. The laughter and music of the castle, the warm sun shinning down on our blessed island. Your uncle… I remember dancing with him at the winter solstice… he always relaxes this time of the year.”

The sesames seeds were turning into a fine paste and he knew that he would soon need to smother the goose, but he couldn’t help but pause and smile at his aunt’s words, hands gliding up to finger at the chain that sat snug around his neck. “Yeah, uncle and I, are a lot alike.” He said softly, the image of his uncle and aunt dancing under the moonlight of the last winter solstice brought his comfort.

"Be as that may,” She said amusingly, “I seem to remember a few festivals where you disappeared with your love too."

Smiling softly to himself, he couldn’t help but to tell her, “The last Winter Solstice before- well before the void, he welded together some of my old chain links and the jewels from our bounding ceremony. I-” taking a deep breath, “I saw him. My father came across him, he sails on our ship now. He- He’s still so hot headed… brave too, that stubbornness of his, that led armies to war… it’s all there- he’s still Asce.” He laughed to keep himself from crying.

Shakky stood swiftly, striding across the room to wrap her arms around Marco’s shaking form.

“He doesn’t remember, I know that- but sometimes I look at him and I am back in the palace. I have kept track of as many of our people as I could, I swear that to you Auntie. I have found my mother, brother, and brought as many of our people to Whitebeard as I could. I have celebrated every winter solstice as our religion dictates. And he has come back to me.” He whispered, “I can’t help but feel things are being set in motion, a bounty for a man that bares a striking resemblance to Lawrence was released in the papers. I had hoped to track him, see if it is really him but father is calling me back saying something about my mother and some of the others on the crew acting strangely.”

“Hmmm, I can send your uncle out, see if he could track down Lawrence, you know we send as many as we can your way.” She spoke calmly, weaving her fingers through his hair and pulling his head towards her stomach to hold him close.

“Thank you.”

“You will of course, stay for the ceremony and restock supplies.”

Glancing up at her, Marco couldn’t help the smile that played at his lips, “I know I have said this before, but I’m glad you and uncle are here.”

“You are right,” she laughed, “You have said that before. Now enough of this depressing conversation, tonight is supposed to be a celebration! We welcome you and I'd be honored to sing and dance for you chicky as long as you promise the next time you visit you let me do your hair and stop cutting it so short! I would hate to see what Acse and your mother would think of this mop. They would want to see those waves of yours once more. You hear?"

Chuckling Marco agreed to the demand with a bowed head.

 

That night Shakky danced the lunar dance of the veils and sung far into the night. Marco himself sung the queens song, as was tradition, to end the festival. 

In the morning Marco was ready to set back out, hugging his aunt and uncle lovingly before heading out. Rayleigh watched him go with a wave before heading back to the bar to start tracking Lawrence, a promise to send word to Marco playing at his mind as he wonders if this meant the other two princes were out in the world.


End file.
